


To Skin A Rabbit

by kittypox



Category: DRAMAtical Murder (Visual Novel), DRAMAtical Murder - All Media Types
Genre: Blood, DARK themese, Drama, Get some actual murder up in here, M/M, dark themes, doctor Noiz, rabbit mask, revenge and retribution, take a hint from the title, yakuza Koujaku
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-24
Updated: 2016-01-30
Packaged: 2018-05-09 01:13:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5519960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittypox/pseuds/kittypox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There’s something unusual about this doctor….and it’s not just the fact that he makes a career of mutilation. Maybe it’s the creepy rabbit mask he hardly ever takes off in the office. Or maybe it’s the fact that he is very clearly hiding some secret life behind the veneer of his immaculate office. But who was he to judge on secret lives? When it comes to secrets, Koujaku had a closet full of his own skeletons. With the two of them together they will either live happily amongst their lies or rule with a heap of bodies at their feet.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pretense](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pretense/gifts).



> Happy Christmas to my good friend, Pretense! We got neck deep a new AU that just wouldn't let either of us go! This will be a longer fic, I imagine and cover a range of very unusual and dark topics and themes. Do be warned. Although if you read my work, you probably already know that...

To Skin A Rabbit

"Have you heard of body modification?"

It was an innocent sounding question that Koujaku knew was loaded. Had he heard of...how could he not have heard of it, what with one of his own body guards prancing around the salon in a drape back shirt, showing off his corset piercings. Who among them hadn't heard the stories of all that had been seen at the doctor's unusual office and all the possible surgeries he could have done--and might still do. 

This was no casual question, not when his friend was crushing a glossy magazine in his hands. Although he could not see the cover, Koujaku was fairly certain the aforementioned modifications were the topic of said magazine. 

The man leaned back in his chair, uncertain if he wanted to proceed with this conversation, regardless if it was his friend who initiated it. "Of course I've heard of it. I've heard more about it than I care to about it. Why do you ask?"

He had hoped to put his friend off, but aside from a somewhat nervous swallow, Mizuki plunged forward and placed the crumpled magazine on the table between them. Koujaku leaned in slightly to peer at the cover. At first he assumed he was looking at some artist's airbrushed rendition of a model as some sort of demon, but a double take shattered that notion. What stared back from the cover was a very lovely lady with some very unusual horned protrusions from her skull and a number of 'modifications' to add to her demonic appearance. 

He shook his head, disgusted. "What a tragedy. All that beauty wasted."

"Oh," Mizuki sounded defeated already, "you aren't a fan."

Koujaku grimaced, looking away from the magazine. "The body is a temple. Why desecrate it?"

Mizuki pulled the magazine into his lap, flipping through some of the pages. "Well, it's--it's about self-expression."

And he was sure that Mizuki’s need to express himself had absolutely nothing to do with his eclectic boyfriend who also happened to be into body modification. "And what exactly were you looking to modify to express yourself?" His disapproval was dripping from his tone.

Ever the persistent one, his friend carried on, regardless of judgment. "Just my ears." He pushed the magazine back across the table, open to a spread on elf ears.

Koujaku leaned back in his chair, flicking derisively at the magazine. "I don't want to see that shit, Mizuki. Just get to the point of what you were going to ask. Do you need money to have the surgery done?"

Mizuki pressed his lips together, fighting against the urge to snap in irritation. He had asked the wrong person for input and was likely asking the wrong person for assistance, but this was his best friend, the one he trusted more than anyone else. Even if he couldn't have Koujaku's full support over the surgery, he hoped that he could have his support recovering.

"I'm going to have the surgery done." He said matter-of-factly. "But it's a surgical procedure. I need someone to--"

"To take you there and look after you afterwards?" Koujaku cut in.

He nodded. "Just that."

"Of course. Just tell me when and I'll be there."

"What--really?" The man's quick agreement was a surprise.

The astonishment on Mizuki's face was jarring. He had come off too strong, Koujaku chastised himself. He had been too frank when he knew his friend was seeking his support. Although Mizuki should have known better than to seek approval from him, that his friend had risked his irritation to broach the subject proved how intent he was. 

"Of course." The man said amiably, forcing a smile. "Just because I don't approve doesn't mean I won't help you. I value your friendship. If this is what you wish to pursue, then I'll help in whatever ways I can."

They shared a knowing look. Beyond that, words would mean nothing so they kept quiet and passed a few minutes sitting, sipping at their coffee. After a time, Koujaku reached for the magazine and thumbed through several of the pages. No matter how attractive the face or body, he could not help but flinch at each photo. His stomach flopped uneasily; there was no blood, but there seemed some horrible story behind each image that his vivid imagination conjured with vigor. When he came upon a spread of a self-amputee he recoiled violently, sending the magazine flying.

"Hey," Mizuki reached over and grabbed his hand, pinning it to the table with force, "relax. I promise that I won't force you to see any more than you have to. You can even sit in the car while it's happening. Whatever you need to do so you don't--"

"I'll be fine." Koujaku ground out, fighting to regain composure. He kept his hand still beneath the vice grip of Mizuki's fingers, needing that grip to anchor him. "Tell me when and I'll be there."

Mizuki studied his face for a moment, detecting the steel resolve beneath but wondering regardless if he ought to have asked for the support of another friend. He nodded his head once and retracted his hand, continuing to watch as his friend took a deep breath and forced himself to calm. The doctor he had been referred to was reputed to be as professional as one could wish for in such a specialized field of operating. He hoped that meant that the office was just as professional, otherwise he feared what type of reaction Koujaku may have. 

===================

The bell above the door dinged pleasantly as they entered. Stepping foot into the office, Mizuki’s initial hesitations at bringing Koujaku as his moral support—and legal custodian after the procedure--vanished. The space was clean and well kept, like any professional office. For a time before they had arrived he had worried that it might be somewhat like a tattoo parlor; passing clean, tools lying about haphazardly, and very questionable sterility. He was happily proved wrong. The walls were a pleasant shade of beige, the furniture new, and a welcoming secretary waited at a spotless desk to check them in. 

After filling out the appropriate forms, the young secretary looked over his information, checked the schedule, and nodded his head once. “Perfect. I’ll tell Doctor Rabbit Head that you’re here.”

Mizuki felt his cheeks flush as he nodded and tried to ignore the suspicious glance from Koujaku. They shuffled over to the white sofa in the waiting room and as soon as the secretary disappeared the man turned to him.

“Dr. Rabbit Head?”

“It’s an alias.” He ground out embarrassedly. “I think.”

“I would hope so!”

Any questions Koujaku had about the legitimacy of the office were confirmed with that name. He knew better than most that looks could be heinously deceiving and this place was no exception. And, from his experience, the prettier the exterior, the more poisonous the interior. There was still time to grab Mizuki by the wrist and drag him from the building, he thought. They could hear the secretary speaking in the other room with the doctor. Some exchange of information on the patient was taking place that would last another few moments. 

He turned to his friend, only to find Mizuki pinning him with a stern look.

“No.”

“You can still run.” 

“I don’t want to run.” Mizuki hissed. They squabbled a moment more and when Koujaku gesture to the door he swatted the hand away. “I’m ready to do this.”

Koujaku opened his mouth to protest his case further, but there was a clearing of someone’s throat a step away from him that sent a shiver of alarm down his spine.

“That’s good to know, because I’m ready for you too.”

They both jumped to their feet. Whereas Mizuki smiled eagerly, immediately extending his hand in greeting, Koujaku felt himself recoil physically. He had never before met a doctor who met with patients with an operating mask on…much less a mechanical rabbit mask! He briefly debated the option of striking out and grabbing Mizuki and running. This did not sit well in his stomach.

After a short exchange, the doctor turned toward him and Koujaku grimaced. Not just a rabbit mask, but a sinister one as well, with leering eyes and crooked whiskers. The look didn’t sneak past the young man and he laughed.

“Does this bother you?”

“I’m just not sure I trust his life to the hands of a giant robot bunny.” He jerked his thumb at Mizuki.

“Koujaku!” Said friend hissed unhappily.

The doctor chortled in amusement. The mask tended to have an unsettling effect on people, but this time there seemed to be some real hesitation. Normally, he would only defer to the client, but there was a bond there that he needed to respect. Grinning, he lifted the mask and set it on the top of his head for a moment. He fixed his sharp green eyes on the tall man.

“Does this help settle your nerves?”

Koujaku looked the young man over. He would admit that he was stricken by how attractive the doctor was, with such unusual eyes and his pale hair sticking out in an unkempt manner, but that was not why he stole several seconds to look him over and memorize the lines and details of his face. When he was certain he had the young man’s face seared into his memory, he nodded.

“It does. I’m sure I won’t be forgetting your face now.”

Mizuki glanced sideways at him, fidgeting.

The doctor’s grin widened. There felt like a bit more to that statement than what could be read on the surface, but he decided to ignore it for the moment. He let his eyes move over the man’s face, as had been done to him.

“Good.” He said after a moment. “I’ll be sure to remember yours as well.”

Koujaku blinked. He was sure that that was not a come on. No doctor would be that forward with a client. Well, he was a friend of a client, but that would still reek of unprofessionalism. He raised an eyebrow at the doctor; the look was returned with a coy smirk. 

Oh…

Mizuki coughed conspicuously. The moment shattered and the doctor lowered his mask and swept a hand towards the operating room.

“Shall we?”

The red haired man sighed in relief. “Yes, please. He’s getting annoying.”

The two shared a laugh and disappeared behind the doors, leaving Koujaku standing in the waiting area, feeling lost and useless. The secretary appeared after a moment with a mug of coffee. He offered it with a smile and indicated where he could get some milk and sugar, if needed. It would be several hours, he was told, so he ought to make himself comfortable. 

With a sigh, Koujaku retreated to the sofa, sipping at the black coffee. Before sitting, he took a moment to examine the pictures hanging on the walls, which he had overlooked before. At first he was unsure what he was looking at and he leaned forward to examine them more closely. What he had initially mistook as a series of tasteful nude picture was, in fact, a collection of modifications. He let out an audile cry of shock and disgust and plopped down heavily. 

What had Mizuki dragged him into? He slurped down the rest of his coffee, cringing at the burn. Everywhere he glanced, he was suddenly aware of the oddities of the type of office he was in. Books and magazines of modifications and surgeries sat everywhere, photos of models and clients strewn about, a bust with modifications down the front and back….it was a showcase of mutilation and the macabre. 

The man dropped his head. If he just closed his eyes and tried to take a nap, maybe he could forget where he was.

From the front desk, the secretary watched him with a half smile. Koujaku was hardly the first man to walk into the office and feel out of place and sick. Truthfully, he was handling the oddity well, in the young secretary’s opinion. When people were uncomfortable, they tended to move about restlessly for hours, swear to themselves, or just leave the office. 

Maybe his brother had something to do with the reason the man remained. He would tut Noiz later for overstepping the bounds of propriety with that earlier exchange, but he was also mildly curious as to what had compelled his brother to act like that in the first place. Flirting was not something he was used to seeing his brother do. Of course, he could see why Noiz was interested; the man was certainly attractive, in a well kept type of way. 

He would just wait to see what came of that dialogue.

\------------------------

The incessant low hum of voices in his head drew Mizuki out of his slumber, sluggish as he was and more than willing to continue resting. The chatter was not stopping though, no matter how he groaned and attempted to fall back into the lulling sleep. There were words in the chatter, he thought as his mind slowly began to wake. What he heard were voices, one familiar, one not. The more he concentrated, the more he could pick out phrases and sentences instead of the cut up pieces of some conversation he was not a party to. Eventually, he was able to follow the back and forth and discern when it was his friend speaking and when it was the doctor. 

"He's not my boyfriend; we've been best friends since childhood." He heard Koujaku say, the man's voice echoing in an odd sort of way, as if he were miles away. 

There was a hum and then the doctor's soft, flat voice replied. "I see. You're a good friend to offer to attend to him post-surgery."  
With great effort, Mizuki managed to peel one of his eyes open. Boyfriend talk already? When they had first come into the office and the doctor had seen them, he had noted the spark of interest that had leapt to Koujaku's eyes, following on the heels of his uncertainty. Amazing how quickly a pretty face could alter the man’s behavior; although he had been a tad worried by the somewhat veiled threat Koujaku had delivered. If the doctor knew it to be a threat, he did not note it. 

It had been a passingly pleasant reaction, compared to all the horrible ways the meeting could have gone. By sheer luck they were the only clients in the office, so Koujaku’s senses remained intact. He had feared for his friend’s composure, but the clean, subtle office space met with Koujaku’s approval, as did the polite, coddling secretary and a copious number of coffee cups. 

Through his one bleary eye he watched as his friend casually flirted, tossing out playful grins and meaningful glances at nearly every turn. It had been awhile since Koujaku had been so bold, he thought. Then again, his friend was getting as much as he was giving; the doctor wasn't subtle about his own interest. What a change of heart. 

"Daaaaamn," he drawled tiredly, startling the two and gaining their attention. "Koujaku you're gonna get laaaaaid."

An identical smirk touched both of their mouths.

Tactfully ignoring the comment, Koujaku leaned over him and took his hand reassuringly. "Hey, buddy, how are you feeling?"

Mizuki squeezed his hand weakly, attempting a feeble smile. "I feel great. How's it look?"

Koujaku leaned closer, examining first one ear and then the other. He pursed his lips thoughtfully then sighed. "They're crooked."

"....what?"

"Just kidding; they look great! You really look like an elf now. I should have listened to you more; I definitely approve!"

Mizuki huffed with as much indignation his sluggish mind could muster. "I'm not an elf."

"Whatever you say, man."

Another snort and Mizuki closed his eye, the noise falling into the background of his mind. There was further banter and he was fairly certain that someone had given their phone number, but at that particular moment he was a bit too groggy to care. It felt like there were clouds of cotton floating about in his mind, making everything distant and trivial. He could get the particulars of his friend's wooing when the drugs had fully gotten out of his system. For the time being...a little nap was too great a draw to turn away.

At the side of the table, Koujaku canted his head, staring at his friend's peaceful face. "Is this normal?"

"To be so tired?" The doctor asked with a grin. "Yes. People react differently to anesthesia. Your friend seems to be reacting well."

"How so?"

"For starters, he isn't vomiting on my floor."

Koujaku hummed in understanding. He himself hadn't reacted as well when he had his last surgery. In fact, it had put him off of tomato soup for the rest of his life. The memory of that garish red, grey soup splashing onto his lap and soaking him in sickly warm bile was gag inducing. He shook his head to dispel the memory before it gained too much footing.

"So, do I wait for him to wake up, do I carry him, or do you have a wheelchair?"

The blonde took a step back from the bed. "Legally, I have to see him awake and to the door."

And they really ought not to impose, Koujaku thought, regardless of the good potential to flirt. Still, he doubted his friend's ability to move. He lifted Mizuki's arm until the elbow was bent at a 90 degree angle and then dropped it. The limb flopped like a lifeless fish.

"That's normal too." The doctor reassured him with a grin.

"I think he may need a brief rest."

The young doctor canted his head, pleasure lighting up his eyes. "That's fine. The rest of my afternoon happens to be free. Can I interest you in some more coffee? Or something stronger?"

There was only a slight pause before Koujaku happily accepted the invitation. Whereas the young doctor's forwardness was surprising, it was startlingly welcome. Odd bunny operating mask aside, he was an attractive find. Even if his business was off putting. 

All during the operation he had fretted over his friend’s safety, making plan after plan if they needed a quick escape. When the doctor had summoned him in to see Mizuki’s condition and wait for him to wake he was truly impressed with how well the job had been done. Not being a stranger to operations and stitching, he could tell good work when he saw it and Mizuki’s surgery, small as it was, had been done with expertise. He nearly offered the doctor an apology, but the young man had not held any grudges over his earlier hostility and had happily engaged him in conversation.

If he now felt entirely at ease trusting his friend’s life with this doctor, he supposed he could trust a cup of coffee.

\--------------------

According to the pamphlet the doctor had given, his ears were healing well. The stitches had shriveled and fallen out a day ago and Mizuki was now able to properly admire the fine modification job. He turned his face this way and that in the light of one of expansive mirrors at Koujaku’s salon, unable to tear his eyes from the modification. There was hardly any scarring; just a hint of a stitch line that blended effortlessly with the rest of his skin. 

“So cute.” His boyfriend drawled, sidling up behind him and teasing the tip of his now pointed ear.

“Ah, you think so?” He asked, masking his wince of pain with a casual turn of his head so he could plant a firm kiss on the young man’s lips.

His lover giggled, kissing his lips twice before pulling back and taking a long look at his pointed ears. The dark haired man pursed his full lips, a perfect, adorable pout, before he smiled again and threw himself at Mizuki for a smothering embrace. “They’re perfect! You look so adorable!”

“Ah, ah, Sei, careful, they’re still sensitive!”

A mischievous light lit in his lover’s eyes. “I know. Can you imagine how you’ll squirm when I tug on them with my teeth like this?”

“UGH! Get a room, please!”

A flash of annoyance came to Sei’s eyes as he turned from the mirror to the front desk where his brother was eyeing him in equal irritation. An irksome grin tugged at his lips as he looked between his boyfriend and Aoba, considering what was of more interesting to pursue: a verbal battle with his brother or a necking session with Mizuki.

“Fine,” he said, deceptively calm, “we’ll get a room. How about you get one too the next time you play with your dog’s asshole.”

Aoba’s eyes widened in shock before rage settled in. “Oh, please!”

“What?” Sei asked, feigning shock at the reaction. “You mean you only open mouth kiss the dog? My mistake.” He giggled cheerfully.

“Come over here and say that to my face and I’ll yank those goddamn ribbons out of your back!”

“Try it!”

Had the curtain to the backroom not swished just then, slicing through the tense air with a knife, blood might have spilled. By then, Mizuki had learned not to get between the Seragaki twins when they were throwing down. The last time he had attempted it he had been struck so hard his jaw had to be reset. Even Koujaku suffered the heat of their battles when he tried to intervene. Luckily, there was a point of no return and they had not reached it yet. When Koujaku appeared, looking tired and grumpy, the two instantly quieted and the wrath in the air dispelled.

“What is all the noise?” Koujaku asked, pinning the two with a no-nonsense glare.

At length, Sei answered, plopping down next to Mizuki and clasping a hand on the man’s knee. “Nothing. Just a tiff.”

Aoba nodded, sitting back down as well, overtly reach down to his bag and patting his dog’s head. 

“Well cut the shit, I’m not in the mood this morning.”

“Grouchy.” Sei noted, returning to his appraisal of his boyfriend’s ears.

That was not how Koujaku had wanted to be roused that morning; after the rough—not to mention painful—evening he had had, he wanted nothing more than to sleep his battle wounds off and take a day for himself. Unfortunately, when the Seragaki twins got riled, they were not only startlingly violent but obnoxiously loud. He liked to tease that they were good to have around should he died as their noise could rouse the dead, but it was not such a cute trait right then. 

Once he had a cup of strong coffee in him, he was better able to manage his troublesome crew. After a few minutes to settle, the twins were back on good terms and were huddled together over Aoba’s coil, scrolling through some sort of online catalogue. Mizuki was still ogling himself in one of the mirrors so he walked over and sat down.

Truth told, he hadn’t been sure what to think when his friend had proposed the idea of his surgery; body modification had appeared to be Sei’s thing and his alone. Perhaps the young man had been working on Mizuki or he had simply awoken a curious side of the artist that yearned to be expressed. Regardless of where the idea stemmed from, Mizuki had desperately wanted the modification and he had been happy to attend to his friend’s needs. Gods knew he owed the man a bit of support in return for the unyielding loyalty and friendship he provided. 

“They look good.” He said, sipping at his second mug of coffee.

Mizuki smiled. “Yeah? You seemed pretty iffy on the idea before.”

“True. But they do look good on you. And you’re happy. That’s the most important thing.”

“Hmm, maybe. Then again, I thought that maybe the best part, for you at least, was getting a hot doctor’s number.” He grinned wickedly. “Did you call?”

The call out was unexpected; he hadn’t been aware that Mizuki had been cognizant enough to hear his exchange with the doctor wherein he received his phone number. A soft color settled onto Koujaku’s cheeks, thinking on the back and forth flirting he had partaken in. They had both been interested, that had been obvious. Still, the young man’s job was somewhat alarming…as was the fact that he had not removed the rabbit mask until well after the surgery was complete. Eccentric or crazy? He wasn’t too sure yet. 

“Do you suppose he wears that mask all the time?”

Mizuki frowned at the serious tone. “I’m sure not. You can’t really go walking around with a rabbit mask on all the time, even in this city. Or were you referring to more intimate times?”

Koujaku snorted. “I’m sure the mask makes appearances in his sex life, which I have to imagine is terrifying. I don’t know, something about him seemed…off. Like he was hiding something.” 

And he knew a thing or two about hiding secrets. The mask, the hidden room with his surgical bed and instruments, the fact that his office was practically impossible to find…it hinted at some deep rooted secret that could be life ruining. His first guess had been that it was an illegal business, but who was he to judge on illegal actions? Still, he hadn’t liked the notion of handing Mizuki over to a questionable business and had been ready for a fight, should it had come to that. 

Mizuki watched as his friend pondered the implications of his doctor’s eccentric ways. Had he not heard a dozen or more positive reviews of the doctor face to face from other clients, he would have been wary as well. Koujaku had been there as more than just moral support. All had turned out well though with better than expected results. Shady business practices aside, the office had been immaculate, the operating room as well stocked as any at a hospital. The young doctor had been professional—with him at least; flirting with his friend might have been pushing the bounds of formality—and was, in truth, better than any doctor he had been to before. He was almost disappointed that the doctor didn’t do standard exams. 

“I think…” he drawled, fishing in his wallet for the doctor’s crumpled card, “that you’re over thinking things. And if you’re really that curious over the mask, maybe you ought to ask him.”

He extended the card to his friend. Koujaku eyed it for a moment before plucking it from his fingers and turning it over. On the back was the doctor’s neat scrawl and his personal number. ‘If there were any questions or problems’ he believed had been the doctor’s exact words, but he had seen through that farce, as he was meant to. 

A smile tugged at the corner of Koujaku’s mouth. “Well, maybe you’re right.”

“You’ve been thinking about him all week.” Mizuki teased. “Why don’t you ask him out and see what makes Dr. Rabbit Head tick?”

He tapped the card against his lips, thinking of the young man’s smile and the way his green eyes had shone when he had finally removed the mask, his hair falling around his eyes in a haphazardly beautiful way. No matter the questions he had on the doctor’s business and ethics, there was something alluring in that smile and those eyes that he could not remove from his mind. It was true that danger courted danger and he might be attempting to win the favor of someone with a streak of trouble to rival his own….but he would risk it. Danger courted danger, but if danger knew itself well enough, it could also court tranquility and constancy. Maybe, just maybe, he had finally attracted something pure, or as pure as he could win. 

“I’ll call him.”

\--

NO NEW MESSAGES.

The status had been perpetually the same all week, save a reminder that he had a client or a coupon alert from a department store. The lack of calls was strangely, alarmingly infuriating. After all of the ground work he had laid with his smiling and flirting, he had thought he would at least get a call. He never flirted. Perhaps he had misread the man's signs. No, no, that was impossible. They had both been flirting relentlessly. Perhaps his flirting lacked finesse then. He couldn't entirely rule out that possibility. If that were the case, however, he was much embarrassed, not to mention disappointed. 

"Wilhelm, would you care to explain how I came to such a diagnosis?"

The young man looked up to find his fellow residents and the doctor conducting rounds staring at him. How unlike him, he thought as he pocketed his phone. There was a good chance that he was beginning to obsess. He wanted that phone call a lot more than he had realized.

Without batting an eye, he strode to the bedside and leaned over the patient, examining him. After just a few seconds he stood back. "Based on the size of the affected area, the discoloration of the skin, and the swelling, I would have to say that is what prompted your diagnosis of post-op infection."

The doctor stared hard at him. "And your diagnosis to remedy the infection?"

"I'd need to read his chart before prescribing antibiotics so I don't prescribe anything he'll have an allergic reaction to."

The remainder of the rounds was tediously long with more than a fair share of questions aimed at him. The ten hours of work still head of him was much easier to digest. Patients he could manage with grace, tact, and politeness. A crotchety old doctor who was jealous of the promise all of the new residents had was not so easy to manage well. Not when his instincts were urging him to spit venom and verbally demolish the man.

"Don't think about it." Theo advised while he was on his dinner break. "It's natural for them to be jealous of your talent. You were the top of your class and you're still ahead of everyone else in knowledge and skill. Be proud of yourself."

He stared at the coil screen, a displeased look on his face. “Pride is useless. I don’t need to be proud of myself and I don’t need anyone else to be proud of me either.”

The image of his brother rolled its eyes and sighed. They were treading upon old ground; rather than pester his older brother about what he thought was of worth, he steered the conversation away from the toils of work. He was not in the mood for another tirade against their parents and their upper-class ideals. As much as he loved his brother, even he could have enough of his one-track complaining. 

It took Theo only a moment to alight on a topic that was sure to distract his brother. He eyed Wilm’s sour expression and watched the way he picked at his plate of pasta, waiting for the perfect moment to poise his question. When his brother sighed and placed his fork down he cleared his throat and asked innocently,

“Did you ever receive that call you were hoping for? You know, from that man you were babbling about. The tall, handsome one; I remember signing him in when he came into the office with his friend.”

As he had hoped, a rush of color flooded Wilm’s cheeks, caught off guard as he was by the query. It took a solid several seconds for the young doctor to compose himself, schooling his expression to appear nonchalant.

“No such call.” He said simply.

Theo’s playful grin fell. That was a true disappointment; he had seen how enamored his brother was. Hell, he had heard most of the flirting that had passed between Wilm and the man. As far as he could recollect, his brother was not a flirting man. He was hardly a sociable man. Proof of how infatuated Wilm was. That it had returned no results was probably crushing to his brother.

“I’m sorry, Wilm. I’m sure---”

A red flag appeared suddenly on Wilhelm’s coil screen.

“I’ll call you back, Theo, I have another call coming in.”

Theo nodded in understanding; another call could mean another client. With a smile and a wave, he closed his browser, promising to catch up later. Wilm nodded once then straightened his back, preparing to sound professional and wise. He clicked to answer the call.

“Dr. Rabbit Head; how may I help you?”

There was a pause on the line. That was not unusual; many of his clients were unsure what to expect or how to respond during their initial call. That, and the name threw them off. As the silence stretched on, he feared the line had dropped.

“Hello?”

Finally a sound; a muffled laugh. “Sorry about that, I wasn’t expecting—that can’t be your real doctor name, can it?”

“As real as can be; who is this?” He asked, steel entering his voice. 

“Oh,” the voice sounded suddenly apologetic and slightly nervous, “you probably don’t remember me. We met last week. I brought my friend in to have his ears done—”

The man carried on for a second more, but Wilm had ceased to hear the rest of his ramblings. Adrenaline surged in his veins and he felt abruptly uplifted. Suddenly the old, uppity doctor and his petty punishments were trivial specs on his day. 

“Yes.” He interrupted, his voice having grown soft and welcoming. He even pitched his voice a tad lower to sound huskier. “I remember you. I had been hoping you would call.”

The alteration of tone had the desired effect. The hesitation vanished from the man’s voice.

“I was hoping that you would still be interested. I was thinking of you all week.”

Why then had it taken so long to call, Wilm wondered. Maybe someday he would ask; it wouldn’t do to be confrontational before he even got asked out. “I’ve been thinking of you as well.”

“In that case,” the man began, suddenly sounding suave and assured in his own movements, “would you care to join me for a drink of your choice sometime? I can imagine how busy your schedule is, so you name the time and place.”

Between residency and running his side business, there was little free time for Wilm to play with. Doctors already had difficult times managing real lives and he was doubly loaded. This date though he was determined to work into his busy schedule. 

“I would love to.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Overdue...sorry

Chapter 2 

So this was what normal people did on their days off. Sleep in, make a leisurely breakfast, do some grocery shopping, go get coffee…it seemed horribly mundane to Wim. Such was the tedium of life he supposed. Which was why he didn’t have a life outside of residency and his business. Hardly seemed worth it to beg and plead for a day off when it just got wasted on cheap coffee and a few extra hours of sleep. There was cheap coffee at the hospital and Theo could make a perfectly passing cup when needed.

Which was why he had told his date to get him hot chocolate.

"Here." The man said upon returning to the table, carefully slipping a steaming cup across the table. "Extra dark mocha hot chocolate. With whipped cream."

...Maybe there were good things about days off. A smile lighted his face and Wim picked up the cup, taking a deep inhale of the chocolaty scent. Definitely couldn't get this at the hospital. Nor could he get said hot date. His eyes flicked back to the man sitting across from him, blowing the steam from his coffee. He was far better looking than Wim remembered. Having studied anatomy, he was always appreciative of fine bone structure and well worked muscles. The man's white v-neck stretched across his chest, giving just enough of an idea of what lay beneath that it was no wonder all of the women in the place were staring. 

"Thanks." He murmured, trying to mask his casual assessing of the man's body. 

Koujaku smiled, hyperaware of the way he was being ogled. He had been blessed with good looks and cursed with the self-awareness of how attractive he was. Ever since he had hit puberty and began filling out in all the ways a dashing young man ought to, he had noticed the way people stared and smiled. 

He chose to ignore the way the young man's eyes were moving over his tattooed arm, marveling over the design. With a slight clearing of his throat, he tugged the sleeve of his shirt down to his wrist and turned the assessing eye on the young man.

“So, what should I call you? Doctor?” 

Wim chortled softly. “Preferably not. Most of the people who call me that either hate me or fear me.”

Quite an opening for conversation there. Koujaku lifted his brow, finding it difficult to equate such harsh criticisms with the—admittedly cold—young man across from him. “Why would they hate you? I’m sure your clients don’t hate or fear you. Or do you find that they do?”

Wim paused. He was breaking one of the first rules of dating by delving into particulars of his life and already showing what he regarded as his worst side, but so be it. He was a busy man and didn’t have time to beat around the bush and play the dating game. This was him; take it or leave it. That said, he didn’t exactly want to reveal too much about his actual life and this man didn’t need to know about his resident status at the local hospital. His two lives did not mix and this date fell into the realm of his business life. 

“My peers are jealous because—of my skill.” That was all that needed to be said on the topic of his hospital coworkers, he decided. “My patients come to me willingly, that’s true, but many of them are afraid to go under the knife. I suppose that’s the pitfall to this job. Never mind about that though; you can call me Noiz.”

"Noiz? You said Noiz? What type of name is that? A nickname?"

"Exactly that."

"I suppose it's not the oddest name I've heard." But it ranked high on the list, Koujaku thought. "And is there a story behind this nickname?" 

The young doctor pursed his lips, considering if it was appropriate to reveal. He supposed discussing a nickname was not overstepping into his personal world. Not too much at any rate. Revealing his nickname should not provide the man with any means to find out who he really was.

"When I was young," Noiz began, "my father worked at home. Probably not the wisest decision to drive productivity, given that there were two toddlers in the house. My younger brother was an angel though, goody-two-shoes that he is. So, when it came to discipline, it was usually me who was getting yelled at. Most of the complaints were about noise..."

"And the name stuck." Koujaku finished, grinning slightly. That was...kind of cute, for such a handsome young man. And such a quiet one now, he noted; ironic. It reminded him a bit of when Aoba still called him 'hippo'...although that was not a flattering name at all. Upon reflection, perhaps 'Noise' wasn't the most endearing name either.

"And do you like that nickname? I can call you something else."

Noiz raised a brow. "Of course I like it; why would I use it if I didn't?"

"Well, we don't always get to choose our own nicknames. Sometimes we get saddled with them."

The young man smiled. "Just call me Noiz."

They lapsed into silence. His eyes turned again to the man's tattoos, which had been covered, albeit poorly, by his long sleeved shirt. Funny to have such intricate decoration and then hide it. In fact, if he hadn't been mistaken, the look on the man's face when he had been caught staring had been uncomfortable, ashamed even. A mystery to unravel another day; they were not familiar enough yet for him to pose prying questions. Although that did leave him wondering just what he could should talk about.

Noiz puzzled over the little he knew about dating etiquette while he and his date sipped at their drinks. He didn't have much dating experience. It just wasn't his thing. Very few people interested him and even fewer interested him in a romantic way. Add to this difficulty that he was also maintaining a secret side business and life, and his list of conversation topics was drastically shortened. 

"How is your friend recovering?" He asked. That seemed a safe avenue of discussion.

The man stared back at him, perhaps confused as to why he brought up his friend on their date. "He's fine. I took care of him, like you told me to. His boyfriend has taken over now."

Another pause.

This was why he didn't date, Noiz thought. It was tedious.

He finished off his drink and resisted the urge to get up and leave; it was a compelling urge, but he was still mildly interested in this man. If they could just find something to start a real discussion, maybe they could actually make a connection.

"So...what do you do?" He asked lamely.

Koujaku's eyes lit up briefly. He had been having similar thoughts on how well this date was going and pondering how to turn it to his advantage. Unfortunately, he was just as unwilling to divulge intimate details of his life to this strange young man that he still did not entirely trust. Unlike Wim though, he knew how to play the game and play it well.

"Well," he drawled, a playful look on his face, "I can't tell you that."

Suddenly Noiz found himself curious. Normally he found the cat and mouse game tedious, but this time he was drawn in. He could only guess it was because, until that moment, his date had been entirely forthcoming, answering any question he posed and offering full explanation and ample information on any and all things. This coyness seemed in direct contrast with his character. 

He leaned forward, intrigued.

"Oh? And why can't you tell me?"

"It's a secret." Koujaku said proudly. "But I do have a cover job."

Noiz laughed. "A cover job? Boy, I hope it's a good cover."

"It's the best cover! You would never believe it."

"Alright, then spill. What do you do when you're not a mysterious night marauder?"

Koujaku grinned, pleased to have drawn the young man in. "I--am a hairdresser."

Judging from the blank look on the young man's face, that was not the answer he had expected. The revelation usually left people speechless. There was something somewhat satisfying, basking in the blank looks, confused furrowed brows, and gaping mouths.

"I know, I know," he laughed, "how can someone as strong and handsome as I be a hairdresser? Is that what you were thinking?"

Noiz stared for a few moments longer. "That is...exactly what I'm thinking." Of the many occupations this man could have, hairdresser was not the first that had come to mind. Had he guessed, he would have thought perhaps a bouncer or body guard, even a fitness instructor. Based on the size of those muscles, he was certain they got much use. Perhaps the guy was a gym rat then. Still...he did not appear to be the stereotypical gay man in a hair salon. 

"Interesting."

Some of the pleasure bled away. "You were expecting something more perhaps?"

Noiz canted his head, considering. He didn't doubt that the man was a hairdresser...but he was certain that there was more to the story than what he was being fed. That cute little 'it's a cover' story was very likely true. Which made him suddenly, intensely interested and determined to find out the truth behind the ploy. 

"Yes," he smiled, "I was honestly expecting something different, but I suspect that there's more than you're telling me."

"Well, I did say it was a cover."

"You did." He leaned forward, elbows on the table, an intense look on his face. "And I do like a good intrigue."

Success! He had finally made it past the passive, stone mask that the young man wore. He looked a lot more pleasant when he was smiling, Koujaku thought; although, at the moment it was more a determined grin than anything else. Well, curious as the young man was, Koujaku was confident that his 'side business' was not in jeopardy of being discovered. He had spent years crafting his own facade of normalcy and, for those who had no inkling as to what he was a party to, it was near impossible to scratch the surface of his disguise. 

With the ice finally broken, a considerable deal of tension bled from the air. They were both keenly aware of a number of secrets and facts redacted from their speech, but it was a strangely companionable understanding. Motivated as he was to unearth the secrets of Koujaku's life, Noiz was content to let it rest for the moment. When it came time to leave, he happily accepted the invitation to visit the local market. He was surprising himself with the depth of his interest...and he liked it. He liked being fascinated and drawn into the life of another person. He liked it just as much as he liked the attention and curiosity said person laved upon him. It was new, exhilaration territory. By the time he returned home, a bag of fresh produce in arm, he was certain that he would be pursuing this relationship further. 

\--

The jingling of the bell above the salon door brought a scowl to Aoba’s face. If he had to chase away another pining fangirl who was desperate to see Koujaku and masking it as a need for a haircut, he would choke someone. He turned towards the door, ready to snap that they were closed for the afternoon, and immediately sighed in relief as the boss came in, balancing an armful of paper grocery bags.

"That took awhile." Aoba said nonchalantly, getting to his feet and taking some of the burden from the man's arms.

"Did it?" Koujaku hadn't noticed. Save for the initial ice breaking phase, the time had flown by without notice. He had no doubt that, had the young man not been needed at his office, they would have spent much more time together, possibly even the night. Neither of them held propriety in much esteem, as they had both noticed. Their mutual interest was palpable, as was their physical attraction.

Luck had not been on their side this time, so they parted with a very clear understanding that they would be in touch soon. The unspoken promises were just as clear and Koujaku could not help the small grin twitching on his lips as he pondered just what the young doctor was like in bed. His pleased expression faltered only a second when he considered the possibility that the unnerving rabbit mask may make an appearance. Well...that could be kinky. They could probably make it work...

He returned downstairs to the salon where Aoba was busy flipping through a magazine, mind elsewhere. It was likely a slow day at the salon; without him there, there was hardly any business, unless someone was searching out Mizuki for a special tattoo, but he had not spotted his friend lurking anywhere. 

"Is your brother off with--"

"With the elf. Yes." Aoba supplied with a gruff undertone to his voice. It seemed the twins had been quarreling again.

Knowing better than to ask after the problem, Koujaku turned to the vanities where his tools were and began lining them up; soon enough someone would burst through the door, squealing happily, and pleading for his attentions. Whatever kept his bank account full, he thought as he pulled the comb from the barbicide and inspected it. All seemed in order. Except...

He took up his scissors and examined the blades carefully in the light of the vanity bulbs.

"Is this blood?"

Aoba looked up from his magazine. He shrugged indifferently. "Probably."

"I thought you had cleaned these?"

His friend apparently did not like the hidden accusation in his remark. Aoba slammed his magazine against the counter. "I did the best I could. I didn't tell you to go to town on that guy and--"

"Alright, alright, point taken." Koujaku was in too good a mood to pick a fight. He took the edge of his shirt and began to rub vigorously at the spots of blood. After a few careful swipes it was clear that he would need to use a bit more force; the blood was long dried and stubbornly refusing to be removed. 

"We have to be more careful." Koujaku said quietly, mostly to himself. Aoba regarded him anyways, nodding his head once. "Not that I worry we'll be found out, but in the off chance someone does start looking, we can't have anything lingering around." 

When he glanced over Aoba rolled his eyes and sighed, as if it were the most obvious and therefore stupid advice he had given. Perhaps it was, but if it needed repeating then so be it.

"I'll send word out amongst the ranks."

"Appreciate it."

With the last clinging spots removed, he dropped the scissors onto the vanity and leaned against the ledge. He was playing a dangerous game, mixing up with someone who was likely a city socialite. This relationship could put him in circles that could prove dangerous to him. His poker face was good, but have enough people examining you under a spotlight and eventually something would crack. There were ways around getting caught, Koujaku knew; he had been playing that game since before puberty. He had been bred into it. Well, it was time he put his skills to the test then. How long could he play the game? Just how far could he take it? 

Perhaps he was being reckless, but at the moment he was too enamored by his new acquaintance to care too much. He knew how to play the game and his life at the same time. Don't get too deep, don't bring him in too deep, and all should be well.


End file.
